TRAIN SOLD OUT
Five years ago, Boston cyclist, Greg Hum, thought it would be kind of awesome to take the train out of the city the night before the Boston Marathon and bike the entire route back. So did his friends, and word spread. Last year over 700 cyclists got together to do the annual ride. On Monday, April 8th, 700 tickets for the 5th annual Boston Midnight Marathon Bike Ride go on sale at South Station.
Since the Boston Marathon's start/finish lines and fancy mile markers will be set up, you'll feel just like you're running the marathon, except without all that silly cheering and running. This ride is BYOB (Bring Your Own Bike!).
Due to increased train ridership from the Red Sox game, the only way to get your bike on an evening train is with a Midnight Marathon ticket. You can pick up a ticket at the South Station ticket window. It is not available from any other stations nor the automated system.
I’ll admit it- although sometimes I feel sorry for picky eaters (because of all they’re missing out on), when their lack of adventure inconveniences me, I do get frustrated.
I’m not talking about people with allergies, lactose issues, or spiritual objections to certain kinds of foods or their preparation. I’m talking about people who are afraid to try something because of the possibility it won’t taste good.
It seems crazy that there are people who refuse to try something new because of the possibility of a temporary unpleasant taste.
I want to scream out, "JUST STICK IT IN YOUR MOUTH! WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?!"
People often ask me how and why I got started in this whole flash mob nonsense... especially people who've known me for a long time. You see, I used to be incredibly shy; almost agoraphobic even. So how is it I ended up hosting dozens upon dozens of public performances, many sans pants? It was kind of an accident. I wasn't planning on it; I was roped into filling in for someone else at a No Pants Subway Ride (in another city) last moment.
I agreed because I realized my shyness was out of control and I needed to do something drastic to stop it, and fast. I needed to rip the bandaid off. Well, really, taking off my pants in public wasn't simply ripping off a bandaid; it was more like ripping off 20 feet of duct tape wrapped around my hairy leg.
Ironically, at the same time I was scheduled to lead throngs of people in depantsing I had also already scheduled a date. I didn't change my plans or let my date know; I figured the surprise would weed out anyone too prudish or boring. That's who I was, and I didn't want to be that. If I wanted to date myself I'd get a big mirror and a faster internet connection.
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